


Geometry: Chapter 18, Revelations

by dsa_archivist



Category: Highlander - All Media Types, due South
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-30
Updated: 2006-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-10 18:03:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11132001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: It all comes out- and it all starts to fall apart.





	Geometry: Chapter 18, Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Geometry: Chapter 18, Revelations

## Geometry: Chapter 18, Revelations

  
by Diefs Girl  


Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, I just play with 'em and hand 'em back, none the worse for wear.   


Author's Notes: Was going to post this yesterday, but for some weird reason I simply could not get the site to upload the file. Seems to be working better this afternoon, though.

Story Notes: Highlander/due South crossover, with a cameo here and there from Hellboy, Airwolf, and a few other cameos the sharp-eyed might spot.

SequelTo: Geometry: Chapter 17, Awakening

* * *

Ray sat at the dining room table with Fraser and Saladin and watched Mina cook. She refused everyone's assistance making dinner -Fraser and Saladin both offered- but Methos got around that by asking what she was making, nodding, and hauling stuff out of the pantry, the fridge and the cupboards without having to ask where anything was. Mina stared at him a minute, smiling in a way that was sad, happy and achingly painful all at once; then shrugged and let him help. She put a skillet with oil, a pot of water and a rice steamer on the stove, turned the gas on under them and started tearing plastic off the package of chicken Methos pulled from the fridge and tossed to her.  
  
"Want a beer, Salah?" Methos asked, rummaging through the fridge.  
  
"Sure."  
  
Methos looked over the open fridge door. "You guys want one?"  
  
"No, thank you kindly," Fraser answered automatically.  
  
"I'll take one," Ray said morosely. He'd stopped shaking but he'd been through enough dicey situations to realize he hadn't come off the adrenalin rush yet, and he was due for one hell of a crash pretty soon. A beer and something to eat would cushion the shock when it hit.  
  
Jesus, Ray just didn't know what to think. He boiled it down to the essentials. Mina was alive. That was good- that was fucking _great_. Mina had lied to them- well, sort of. A lie of omission, Fraser would call it. That was bad. But Ray and Frase lied to her the same way and pretty much for the same reasons; so they were kinda even there. Mina... was 109 years old and unless you hacked her head off, could apparently live forever and look hot as hell while doing it. Fuck, Ray just didn't know where the hell to _put_ that... was it good? Bad? Something to blow off like Fraser's weird licking thing or the wolf being deaf? Or something like Stella not wanting kids when he did, something doomed to split them up no matter what they did, an inevitable consequence of their differences?  
  
"Still buying Duncan's favorite beer?" Methos teased, pulling three beers, a vanilla soda and a bottled water out of the fridge and distributing them. Fraser blinked and accepted his water without demur.  
  
"Can't break the habit," Mina admitted, tossing flour, salt and spices into a bowl and giving it a quick stir with a metal whisk. She tossed the chicken breasts into the flour, coated them, and laid them in the olive oil that was just starting to sizzle.  
  
Ray popped the top on his with a morose thanks to Methos and sucked down the first cold swallow, staring at the label moodily. He was getting answers to all kinds of stuff he'd wondered about Marina- why she kept beer in her fridge when she didn't like it, why someone who barely ate had a huge pantry and all sorts of expensive cooking gear, why someone who lived alone was so oddly comfortable having a couple of guys hanging around- in her apartment, in her bed, in her _life_. Too bad the answers were depressing the shit out of him.  
  
"So start talking," Ray said, jump-starting the conversation. "What the hell's really going on here?"  
  
"I've had a rough day," Mina turned the chicken to brown on the other side and smiled thanks to Methos when he handed her a bowl of washed mushrooms. "You guys mind doing the background briefing?"  
  
Methos twirled a chef's knife carelessly on a fingertip, making the blade flash in the kitchen light. "If you please, Salah?"  
  
"Of course, my lord." Saladin cocked his head and regarded Ray and Fraser, the pity in his dark eyes disconcerting but not overtly threatening. "There is only one rule to being an Immortal, and that is _'There can be only one'_..."  
  
Salah talked for nearly an hour while Marina cooked quietly, with Methos' rather haphazard assistance. "The legends of our kind speak of the time of the Gathering..."  
  
Despite paying strict attention to what Saladin was relating, Fraser observed that Methos' scattershot help nonetheless had chopped onions and garlic, washed broccoli, cream, white wine and grated cheese ready for Mina just when she wanted them, slipping whatever she needed into her hand without comment.  
  
"...if an evil Immortal becomes the One, then mankind will know an eternity of darkness, an unending reign of slavery..." By the time Salah finished an abbreviated history of the Game, the Immortals and the Watchers, Marina and Methos were handing out plates of savory chicken in a rich wine and cream sauce over jasmine rice, accompanied by crisp steamed broccoli with sharp melted cheese.  
  
But Saladin kept talking as he ate. "For centuries the Watchers observed our lives, our battles, our deaths, and recorded the results. But they never interfered, until now..."  
  
Ray devoured his serving and went back for seconds but never stopped listening. He'd shaken off the adrenalin crash, shoved the freak-out reaction about Mina in a box marked 'deal with later- _really fucking soon_ ' and now he just wanted to catch the damn bad guy. Then he and Fraser and Marina could deal with the really important shit- the 'We love you, do you love us?' part.  
  
"We're safe only on holy ground. That's tradition. Even the most evil of our kind would never violate that trust..." When Saladin finally came to a halt, Ray's head was spinning from the staggering implications of it all... but his detective's mind was already finding this information provided a surprisingly logical explanation for a few weird things he'd heard about from retired cops, read about in old case files and newspapers when he first joined the Academy and later on, when he was studying for detective. Ray really dug the weird, the unusual, the plain old freaky, and strange stuff like that had stuck in his head for years, something to puzzle over on long boring stakeouts.  
  
Methos took over after that, describing how James Horton organized the cabal of rogue Watchers and used them to start assassinating Immortals before the Gathering came to pass; tricking evil Immortals into helping him, then killing them when they became troublesome.  
  
Marina put down her fork and shoved her mostly untouched plate away, sick at heart, when Methos recounted the murder of Darius and the duels that cost Richie Ryan and Hugh Fitzcairn their heads. Methos didn't stop, just pushed his chair away from the table and pulled Marina into his lap. She struggled halfheartedly to get up but when he ignored her, tightened his grip and kept right on talking, she subsided with another of those mixed sad-happy-painful smiles, her head resting against his. She kept one arm looped round Methos' neck while she toyed with the shimmering uncut blue stones dangling from her throat, but the dark bruises under her hollow hurting eyes underlined how devastated she was by this reminder of all she'd lost.  
  
But Marina joined in when Methos got to how she, Duncan, Methos and Joe Dawson pitted themselves against the rogue Watchers, James Horton and Xavier St. Cloud, how St. Cloud died at Duncan's hands, Horton's faked death and subsequent reappearance, and finally, their decision to separate and go underground for ten years to allow Joe Dawson and the remaining Watchers the opportunity to police their own before an all out Watcher-Immortal War broke out.  
  
Even Saladin listened to this part, anger visibly simmering as he learned the full extent of the plot that cost his lover his life- tortured to death by a madman bent on nothing less than Immortal genocide. Some of the anguish in Mina subsided in her sympathy for Saladin. When she reached out a hand shyly to everyone's surprise Saladin took it, gripping hers tightly. Marina even followed up with a very concise and accurate account of the CPD's murder investigation, including a few things Ray and Fraser were startled to hear about, information courtesy of the head of the Watchers, Joe Dawson.  
  


* * *

By the time they were finished -almost three hours after they'd watched Marina revive- Fraser was frozen in sheer horror and Ray had blown right past stunned and was into fucking appalled. _This_ was what Marina had been hiding in her broken heart? A goddamn _war?_ One with the motherfucking fate of the _planet_ hanging in the balance? One that had taken half her meager family as casualties already? One that condemned Marina to living utterly alone and watching her back for an assassination squad, or evil Immortal, every minute? Jesus H. Christ, Ray thought, reeling from the weight of it all, it was a miracle she was still sane...

Then again, he wouldn't be entirely sure she was if it weren't for the simple fact he'd seen her take three high-powered slugs at point-blank range, wounds that were just gone, right now, from her skin where she was sitting a few feet away. The horror of that threatened to drag Ray back down into a pit of guilt about Marina taking those shots for him, so he forced himself to concentrate on the immediate problems.

"So Horton's out there trying to off all three a' ya? In _my_ city?" Ray asked as soon as Marina finished her briefing.

"No," Methos replied, "Horton's after Marina, and he's after Salah, but he doesn't know I'm an Immortal, he thinks I'm a Watcher. Unfortunately, he thinks I'm a Watcher on Joe's side of the war, which means I'm still expendable, I'm just not a primary target."

Marina's arm tightened around Methos' neck. "And Horton can't find out who Methos really is- even the name would be a dead giveaway. Horton would drop everything to go after Methos. His death would be the ultimate victory for the bastard."

"Why is that, exactly?" Fraser inquired.

"Killing the oldest Immortal? The oldest living being on the planet? Fraser, Methos practically predates human civilization," Marina explained. "For Horton, that's the most important death of all. The older the Immortal, the more powerful they are." Her breath hitched a little but she plowed ahead gamely. "Why do you think he went to such lengths to murder Darius?"

Ray frowned at her, catching an inconsistency. "So why's he want to kill you, if you're so young?"

"Because she's a MacLeod. Because she's _loved_ ," Methos replied flatly. "If Mina dies, Duncan and Connor will stop at nothing to avenge her death. Neither will I. Horton won't even have to try and find us, we'll find _him_."

"MacLeods are a rarity among our kind," Saladin said slowly, trying to find a way to explain it in modern terms. It was surprisingly difficult. Modern culture scorned the very _idea_ of the knight errant. "They are... noble. They stand as champions of justice, defenders of the innocent, protectors of mortals. They care. To the evil among our kind the very word 'Highlander' is a curse. They've taken the heads of some of the most powerful, the most evil of our kind. Connor defeated the Kurgan, Duncan killed Kronos, even Marina, young as she is, took the head of the Ripper."

Saladin locked gazes with Ray, with Fraser. "To kill a MacLeod is to strike a fearsome blow against the forces of good."  
Ray and Fraser stared -just fucking stared- and a faint blush stained Mina's cheekbones as she squeezed Saladin's hand gratefully.

"I think you're overstating the case a little, but thank you, Salah."

"He's not," Methos said flatly. "Which you will learn, if you live long enough."

A bitter little snort of laughter escaped Marina. "If, indeed."

Saladin stood up abruptly, startling everyone as his hand tightened on Marina's. "I meant what I said, my lady MacLeod. And I still owe you a debt, for my transgression against my lord Methos today, in seeking your life. I ask to expatiate it."

Her brows drew together, puzzlement flashing across her face. "I don't understand."

Saladin exerted gentle pressure on her hand, drawing Marina to her feet. "Word of what your clan intends to do is spreading among the Immortals. That you have taken up Darius' banner of peace and seek to defy the Gathering for love. I did not believe it could be done- until now. I owe you my life, lady, I ask to join you."

Marina's gaze sharpened to laser-focus and suddenly every iota of her attention was riveted on Saladin. "You understand what you are asking? What you are pledging yourself to?"

Saladin slowly dropped to one knee in front of her, his dark eyes never leaving her face. "I understand very well. I offer thee my life, my sword, my loyalty, for all time. Wilt thou accept me as thy knight, my lady, that I might follow thee all my days?"

Fraser's jaw dropped and Ray shot him a confused glance at his partner's sharp reaction.

Marina didn't so much as blink as Methos stood up and joined her, placing a hand on her shoulder in silent support. "Would you forswear the chance to be the One, for me, for us?" she pressed. "And if it falls to you to be the One, would you be a protector of mankind for all eternity, a guardian, not a ruler?"

Saladin's gaze never wavered from hers. "I would, my lady. I pledge this to thee."

Marina nodded once, sharply. "Very well. Wait here."

Saladin bent his head and waited as Marina disappeared into her pantry and Ray and Fraser heard the soft hiss-pop of the air pressure seal to her art storage room breaking.

"Frase," Ray whispered, leaning over to murmur into his partner's ear. "What're they doing?"

"Saladin has asked Marina to accept him as her knight," Fraser whispered, his tone betraying his surprise.

Ray blinked, thoroughly taken aback. "Her knight? For real? Ya mean like King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table kinda thing?"

"Yes, Ray. He is offering to swear himself to her service for all time."

Ray frowned, thinking that over. "That's a pretty long time fer them, ain't it?"

Fraser rubbed his eyebrow. "Judging from the previous disclosures, forever, possibly."

" _Fuck_ ," Ray blurted out, blown away by that. Fraser must be pretty freaked, Ray figured, if he wasn't correcting his partner's language.

Marina came back out a minute later, and to everyone's surprise, she was carrying the saber that started all of this. No one missed the leap of sheer delight on Saladin's face at the sight of it, either.

She flicked the black velvet swatch away from the blade and it floated through the air, settling over the back of her chair. Saladin lifted his chin proudly as Marina stood before him. Saladin should have looked submissive kneeling at her feet like that, Ray reflected, completely caught up in watching. He didn't. He looked... proud. Powerful. A lot like Dief...

Marina extended the saber in front of Salah, her hand wrapped around the pommel, the blade tip resting on the floor. Saladin placed his hands on the quillons and met her eyes steadily.

"Are you sure, Salah?" she murmured. "You don't have to do this. I promised you whatever help I could give to avenge Mitchell's death. I won't break my word."

Saladin merely shook his head, locked eyes with Marina and recited a formula Mina knew only from dusty books and Methos' glittering tales of the Dark Ages.

"I, Salah ad-Din Yusuf ibn Ayyub, do become your liege man of life and limb, and of earthly worship; and faith and truth will I bear unto you, to live and die, against all manner of folks. So help me God." Saladin bent his head, and pressed his lips against the hilt, on the cross formed by the grip and quillons of the saber.

"I accept thy pledge. Be a true and faithful knight, Salah," Marina said softly, placing the flat of the blade on his left shoulder, his right, and then his left again before offering him the blade. "Rise, Knight of Araby. Rise and join our band of brothers."

Saladin rose to his feet, the saber gripped firmly in one hand; and both Ray and Fraser were taken aback at the unnervingly competent, natural way he held it. As if he had carried it for so long the blade was nothing more -and nothing _less_ \- than a natural extension of his arm.

Saladin reached out for Marina's hand and clasped it firmly, and Methos' came down and covered them both.

"And now we are five," Methos murmured into the silence.

* * *

Saladin agreed to come down to the precinct and make an official statement about the attack in the parking lot, sans all Immortal references. Ray assured him as a potential victim, not a suspect, he would be granted police protection. Plus Ray's cell phone had rung three times while Saladin, Marina and Methos were pouring out the truth about everything going on, so Ray figured Welsh might have squeezed the mercs for some information. He and Fraser had to check in at the precinct and Ray wanted a crack at interrogating those mercs anyway, plus he wanted the photo of James Horton Marina provided out with an APB as fast he could get it on the wire.

Whatever Mina felt about Ray and Frase -or didn't feel- there was no way in hell that Ray was letting anyone hurt her again. The image of her body jerking as those bullets thudded into her flesh kept searing across his mind's eye whenever he closed his eyes... Christ, if he slept for the next month without waking up in a pool of ice-cold sweat, gasping and shuddering from that nightmare image, it would be a fucking miracle.

"Do I need to come down to the station?" Slumped against the kitchen counter, Marina was nothing but huge dark bruised eyes, hollowed-out cheekbones and milk-pale skin. She'd given Dief the rest of her dinner and nervous exhaustion was making her fingers tremble. She clenched them around the edge of the counter to hide the shaking.

"Naw," Ray muttered, wanting desperately to hug her, hold her close and reassure her but jeez, that was her long-lost lover over there, and he just couldn't _do_ that. Losing the guy had broken her heart- was he such a prick he'd drive a wedge between them? No, thank you fucking kindly, Ray Kowalski was not. "Get some rest, huh?" He fixed a hard stare at Methos. "You'll take care a' her?"

Methos merely nodded, but understanding sparked between them, underlined by the tight, worried lines around his thin-lipped, aristocratic mouth.

Diefenbaker growled in the silence, sharp and loud, pressing close to Marina. He was not leaving his One. Not until the ones hunting her were brought to ground.

"Understood," Fraser said, tugging at his collar. Really, perhaps Diefenbaker was the one best suited to deal with Marina's divided loyalties and heartsick grief. After all, he had been doing it all along.

"Thanks, buddy," Ray muttered, for once not needing a translation.

Marina just smiled, sinking her fingers into Dief's fur, seeking reassurance and finding it.

"We'll call if we get any info from the mercs," Ray said abruptly, pushing off the kitchen counter and lurching into a long stride, his usual grace distorted by his angry tension. "Pitter-patter, let's get at 'er," he mumbled, waving for Fraser and Saladin to follow him.

* * *

Methos waited until the door closed behind Ray, Fraser and Saladin before he turned and reached out to Mina, his smoothly controlled expression giving way to worried tenderness. "Mina..." he murmured.

She practically fell into his arms, shaking so hard Dief whined in immediate concern, pawing her leg anxiously.

"She's all right, my fine friend," Methos murmured and picked Mina right up and carried her into her bedroom. "Just sit, _a ghra_ ," he said, putting her down on the end of the bed. Diefenbaker leaped up on the bed beside her and pressed close. Marina buried her face in his ruff gladly, clinging tight to his neck. He rumbled a low reassurance and began licking the nape of her neck soothingly.

Rummaging through Marina's closet, Methos leaned out, took in the sight and raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. "Hadn't thought of that myself," he admitted. "Looks like fun, though."

Diefenbaker flicked his ears back, then forward again, while his tail wagged once against the bedspread.

Methos grinned. "Thought you'd find that funny," he chuckled, pulling one of the many antique reproduction nightgowns Duncan bought for Marina off a hangar. Crafted of whisper-fine Chinese silk in subtle shifting shades of midnight and cobalt blue, it would swathe her in the rippling, flowing folds he loved, that recalled palaces and civilizations long since gone to dust.

Tossing the gown on the bed, Methos peeled Mina's clothes away with gentle hands and swathed in her in the richly soft, luxurious silk. He dropped his clothes carelessly on the floor and nude, rummaged in his drawer again for the pair of loose cotton sleeping pants he knew would be there. Finding a pair, he yanked them on and wandered around the bedroom lighting a few scattered candles, igniting a stick of incense and setting it to smolder in a carved alabaster holder. Only then did he turn off the lights and make his way to the bed, tossing the pillows into a heap at the headboard so they would have a cozy nest.

Marina was still sitting on the end of the bed, her head pillowed against Dief's sturdy shoulder, the wolf's tongue slowly licking her jaw line.

Methos shook his head at the wave of tenderness that overwhelmed him at the sight of her and the wolf together. Not in four millennia had he seen the like. " _A ghra_ ," he murmured, and climbed into bed and gathered her up, leaning back against the heap of pillows. "You are a piece of the past brought to life again."

Marina curled into his arms willingly and Diefenbaker sprawled out by her side, his head in her lap. Her hand dropped down and settled on the soft, short fur of his forehead, her thumb stroking the curve of bone between his eyes.  
Methos leaned back against the pillows and watched them, remembering a time when he wore antelope hides and thick, rough furs for warmth, carried a knife made from the fang of a sabertooth tiger and slept every night with his own pack of wild dogs drowsing in the furs with him. Long before Kronos, before civilization itself, when living was an endless river of turning seasons, hunting and sleeping and roaming the plains.

"You should have been born then, my beloved fledgling," Methos whispered. "You would have loved the freedom of it all."

"Tell me about my necklace," Mina murmured, the candlelight flickering over her features, making her a creature of soft shadows and luminescent edged curves. "Are they sapphires?"

Methos pressed a kiss against her forehead. "Nothing so common for you, my fledgling." He toyed with one of the dangling blue stones. "Your necklace has eleven blue spinels, twenty-eight white diamonds, and a hundred and three graduated pearls."

Listening to Methos was soothing the twisted knot in Marina's gut, easing the pain of losing Ray and Fraser, pain that had already started and would soon be another gaping wound in her ravaged heart. "I've never heard of them before," she said drowsily, lulled by the familiar rhythms of his voice. "What's a spinel?"

Methos chuckled and kissed her forehead again, his arms tightening around her too-thin body. Sometimes it frightened him how much he loved Marina, loved Duncan, but during moments like these Methos knew he would accept any risk, dare anything at all, to hold his lover in his arms and feel this sublime bliss, this perfect warmth. To feel love, once more, after an eternity without it.

"A long time ago, in the kingdom of Samarkand," Methos murmured, "there was a Shah who loved stones the color of the night sky..."

* * *

When they hit the station Ray's worries about Mina got back-burnered, the place was a fucking madhouse. Every interview room was full and Ray recognized four mercs planted around the bullpen, carefully placed so they were out of each other's line of sight, four of the biggest uniforms at the 27th hulking over them like pissed-off bodyguards.

" _Vecchio!_ " Welsh bellowed, and stopped short when he recognized the man calmly walking between Ray and Fraser. "You caught him? Why the hell isn't he cuffed?"

"He ain't the perp, Lieu," Ray snapped impatiently. "He's the next _victim_."

"It's only a matter of time until we take your head, inhuman bastard," the nearest merc snarled, fanatic hate burning in his gaze as he spewed vitriol at Saladin. "Every last one of your kind will die! Just like your damned traitor boyfriend!"

Saladin's dark features flashed from tightly controlled and watchful to a grief-tinged rage so terrible even Ray and Fraser were shocked speechless. Saladin lunged for the man, appallingly fast, and wiry strong fingers were wrapped around the merc's neck before the uniform standing over him could even blink.

"You won't live long enough to try!" Saladin roared, his thumbs driving into the merc's larynx.

Half the bullpen exploded into action. Ray and Fraser tackled Saladin, dragging him off the merc as the patrolman standing over the prisoner grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked backward, sending the chair flying as he dragged the gasping, choking man away from where Saladin was throwing himself against Ray and Fraser's restraining arms.

Saladin managed to break Ray's hold and send him flying into Frannie's desk; she screamed and backed up against the wall, knocking the files on her desk all over the floor. But Huey and Dewey lunged for Saladin, pinning his arms while Fraser struggled to keep a chokehold around his neck. Shaking off the impact of slamming into the desk, Ray bounced back on his feet, surged forward and slammed a perfect roundhouse straight into Saladin's jaw, snapping his head back.

"Get a fuckin' grip, Salah!" Ray yelled furiously, jabbing his two fingers in Saladin's face, ready to throw at another punch if that's what it took.

The sound of his name jerked Saladin back into partial control and he yanked himself free from Fraser, Huey and Dewey's grasp, fury still raging in his eyes.

"Anytime, murdering scum," Saladin hissed, wiping a trickle of blood away from his lip where Ray's blow landed as he glared at the gasping man cowering on the other side of the bullpen. "Anytime at all. You're not worthy of my blade... I'll kill you with my bare hands!" His voice rose to a shout by the time he finished.

"Get him outta here!" Welsh bellowed, jerking a thumb at the merc. "Get all of 'em out!" The uniforms standing over the other mercs hustled them out of the bullpen; the one Saladin attacked wheezing for breath with livid red marks rising all around his neck from the punishing grip.

Salah raked the entire bullpen with a glare that would have melted plate steel, then flung his head up proudly, and in that defiant gesture Ray suddenly saw the man who fought against a Crusade, a man who united a nation of screaming Arab warriors and led them against motherfucking King Richard the Lion-heart of England. It knocked him back like a punch straight to his own chin. This guy probably knew _Robin Hood_ , Ray's childhood hero. Probably _fought_ him, with that very same damn sword now back in Mina's pantry.

"Jesus, it's real," Ray breathed. While his mind got what Methos and Saladin explained- he really hadn't appreciated what it meant in his gut. That here was a man who had lived for thousands of years. Who watched civilizations rise and fall. Who carried around the life experiences of millennia. It staggered Ray, the visceral impact of what that actually meant.

"Indeed," Fraser said quietly into Ray's ear, standing at his elbow.

"Fuck, buddy," Ray muttered, too low for anyone but Fraser to hear, "what the hell did we get ourselves into this time?"

Fraser had no answer.

"Vecchio, Fraser," Welsh bellowed, glaring at Saladin, "get this guy into my office, now! And then you can tell me what the hell's goin' on in my damn station!"

Ray stuffed his hands into his pockets- sharply aware he was going to have to play this next scene real damn careful. He had to give Welsh enough to make charges stick -that shouldn't be hard- and enough to protect Mina and Salah, and enough to nail that bastard Horton, but the whole live-forever thing was gonna have to stay firmly under wraps.

Okay, Ray thought, no problem- pulled his hands out of his pockets and rolled his shoulders, shaking out the knots. Ray Kowalski was the best damn undercover cop in Chicago. Time for the performance of a lifetime, with everything riding on it.  
Fraser caught it, Ray could tell, felt him slip into the groove, move to the beat in his head. Christ, sometimes he thought Fraser could actually hear the music in his mind. Even Stella had never been able to do that. Would he lose Fraser too, if this fragile thing with Mina fell apart? Would they go back to being partners, not lovers? The bottom fell out of his stomach at the mere thought -a horrifying freefall of vertigo- and Ray wrenched his mind away. Focus. Mind on the job. Right. Time to move.

Welsh slammed the door to his office and glared impartially at Ray, at Fraser, at Saladin. "Tell me. Everything." Enunciating each syllable clearly, like he was talking to Diefenbaker.

"Give him the picture, Fraser," Ray snapped.

Fraser popped a button loose on his tunic and extracted the photo of Horton, handing it to Welsh with his usual Mountie politesse.

"Who's this guy?" Welsh growled.

"The boss," Ray said impatiently, rocking back and forth on his heels. "James Horton. We need an APB out on him right away."

Welsh nodded, yanked the door open and yelled for Frannie. She hurried into his office, avoiding Ray's angry glare but staring beseechingly at Fraser, all fluttering eyelashes and helpless female oh-please-help-me-kind-sir attitude; the one that always jumpstarted Frase's 'a Mountie and a gentleman' instincts. It didn't work. Fraser might as well have been on sentry duty, blank and distant and looking right through her. Ray shivered, hoping Fraser never turned that remote stare on him, because it would rip the heart right out of his chest and leave it a bleeding mess on the floor.

"Get this out on the wire, Miss Vecchio," Welsh snapped. "The name is James Horton."

Frannie reached for the photo. "What's the jolt?"

"Charge, Frannie. What's the _charge_ ," Ray snarled, abruptly furious again. "That's the guy who killed Dalton. Who's trying to kill Marina. Who tried to kill him." Ray jerked his head at Saladin while his two fingers stabbed at the interview rooms where the mercs were being questioned. "Their boss. You oughta try and get on his payroll, Frannie. You've done more to get 'em killed than any a' those assholes."

Frannie lurched back like Ray slapped her right across the mouth and Welsh jerked around, the worried lines around his mouth carving deeper as he realized exactly how bad this situation was getting.

Frannie tipped her chin up defiantly and tried to rally. "You gonna let him talk to me like that?" she snapped at Lieutenant Welsh, snatching the picture out of his hand.

"Why should he not, Miss Vecchio?" Fraser asked coldly, his voice as icy as an Arctic glacier. "It is, after all, simply the truth."

Frannie crumpled, and that snapped the fragile hold Ray had on the anger bubbling under his skin. God, he was furious... jealous, even. Fraser _loved_ him, loved _Mina_ , but Frannie just couldn't let his partner alone. And now her meddling had gotten Marina killed once already- the horror he felt as Mina lay in his arms coughing out her life for his kept flooding over Ray whenever he relaxed his guard. It made him wild to know except for a goddamned miracle the woman he loved -the woman who showed him how much Fraser loved him- would be dead. In large part because Frannie just wouldn't take no for an answer, despite the fact Fraser had turned her down over and over and over again. Christ, if it weren't for the fact Frase felt duty-bound to watch over the real Ray Vecchio's family, Fraser would have simply stopped associating with her entirely. And Frannie used that knowledge like a weapon against Ben, against his partner, his best friend, his lover.

All Ray's pent up frustration spilled out, too strong to be contained any longer. "Dammit, Frannie! What the hell's with you? Don't you care about anything but getting in Fraser's pants? Those are hired killers out there!"

Frannie's own Italian temper sparked. "Don't talk to me like that! _You're not my brother!_ "

"An' I'm glad!" Ray snarled, fury at her colossal self-centeredness clawing at his guts. "Your stupidity is gonna get someone killed and all ya can think about is 'does Fraser still like me'?" he whined in deliberately cruel mockery. "He doesn't! _Get over it!_ "

"Enough!" Welsh thundered, but only Fraser's reassuring hand on his shoulder let Ray throttle back his rage enough to keep from slapping her right across the face.

Welsh snatched the photo out of Frannie's hand and shoved her towards his office door. "Go home, Ms. Vecchio. If you don't care about your real brother's life, I do. You're going to get him killed too, at this rate."

Welsh's comment finally penetrated and Frannie's hands flew to her mouth as she realized what she'd been yelling. " _Ray_ ," she whispered, horrified.

"Go," Welsh repeated, his mouth a firm uncompromising line. "Now. When this is over I'll decide if you can come back."

Tears spilled down Frannie's cheeks as she fumbled open the door and ran out, not even bothering to stop at her desk.

"Dewey," Welsh yelled tiredly, holding out the photograph.

Dewey loped over and took it, checked out the picture.

"James Horton," Welsh snapped out. "He's our mastermind. Get an APB out on the name and the photo. I want every cop in the goddamn state of Illinois looking for this guy."

Dewey nodded once and moved -quick- when Welsh got like this not moving fast enough got you giving anti-drug presentations at high schools in the projects.

Welsh shut the door to his office -pointedly without slamming it- and watched Ray pace nervously, still seething. Saladin sat down on Welsh's couch and observed while Fraser stood stone-faced in the corner, never letting his eyes leave Ray.

"Got anythin' outta th' mercs?" Ray said suddenly, spinning around and rocking back and forth on his heels.

Welsh nodded slowly. "Contract guys, high-priced but no personal involvement beyond money, except for the two in charge; the guy he tangled with," Welsh jerked his head at Saladin, "and the one in interrogation two. They're some kinda... religious fanatics." He eyed Saladin, watching, assessing. "Why do they want to kill you so bad, anyway?"

Saladin shrugged. "We are different. Isn't that enough of a reason for men like him?"

"Different how?" Welsh pressed.

Saladin blew out a breath. "We have certain genetic abnormalities; myself, Marina, her kinsmen, some few others, scattered all over the world. Those men you captured want nothing less than the wholesale murder of anyone carrying those unusual characteristics." He met Welsh's gaze straight on. "Genocide. They wish to purge the world."

That rocked Welsh back on his heels. "Why?"

Saladin's mouth twisted bitterly. "Hate needs no rationale. I suggest you ask them that question."

"How is MacLeod involved in all this?"

"That was our fault, sir," Fraser said tightly, cracking his neck with a sharp sideways jerk, betraying his agitation.

Welsh wheeled around. "Your fault, Constable? Your fault how?"

Fraser cleared his throat before he went on. "Although we had no way of knowing it at the time -and neither did Doctor MacLeod, in her defense- we inadvertently asked her to help investigate a murder perpetrated by the very same individuals trying to kill her. When Miss Vecchio and Assistant State's Attorney Kowalski initiated the search for Marina's identity, it alerted these same individuals that one of their quarries was already in Chicago. We surmised they traced the information request here and had the station under surveillance. When Marina left, they followed her... straight to their original target. They must have been quite pleased; two birds with a single stone, as it transpired."

"So how did she find out where you were?" Welsh said, staring at Saladin narrowly.

Saladin spread his hands to indicate his lack of an answer. "I don't know."

Ray frowned, caught by that. "Yeah, how did she know? She didn't mention it." Three hours of great long explanation during dinner and she didn't mention that once, how could he not realize such a crucial piece of information was missing?

"Perhaps she _couldn't_ tell us," Fraser suggested delicately. "She did have an extended conversation with her former superior this morning that none of us were privy to." The _majority_ of it was private, at least. He still felt quite remorseful about eavesdropping on a personal conversation- despite being firmly convinced of the necessity.

Remembering Archangel's visit -Christ, was it only this morning?- Ray swapped a telling glance with Welsh. _That_ would figure. Feds were notoriously closed-mouthed about their info with anyone but another fed, and Mina and Archangel were obviously pretty damn tight.

"Awright." Welsh scrubbed his hands over his face. "What were you doing in that parking garage?"

"Mitch was kidnapped... because of me. I think Horton must have been watching us, because he waited until Mitch was here alone, in a strange city, before striking. Mitch was, he was..." Saladin stopped, swallowing convulsively as his fists clenched hard enough to punch half-moons into his palms. "He was _bait_. Horton tortured him to... to try and get Mitch to betray me, to lead me into a trap. But Mitch wouldn't do it, so finally Horton used Mitch's cell phone to contact me directly. Told me to come to Chicago and surrender or Mitch would die. Horton let... he let me hear his men raping Mitch, as an incentive. So I would know he was serious. He named a time and a place, and I came. I couldn't not come."

Ray went white and Fraser closed his eyes in horror. Even Welsh looked sick.

Saladin had to take a shuddering breath before he could continue. "When I got to the parking garage... Mitch was already dead. Horton kicked his corpse at my feet and laughed, the filthy bastard. They tried to kill me, too. I barely escaped, and lost my sword in the process. I was hurt, but I didn't dare seek medical assistance. I knew Horton would be watching hospitals, doctors. I holed up in that warehouse to give myself time to heal, time to plan. I paid a street child to bring me food, medical supplies, papers to see if I could find any clues to Horton's whereabouts. That was how I learned Mitch's body had been found- and my saber left in it."

"An artifact that rare... would, sooner or later, lead the authorities to you," Fraser mused. "Mr. Horton certainly took advantage of every possible opportunity to obfuscate the situation."

"And as a probable murder suspect I could hardly go to the police," Saladin sighed, sagging back against the sofa cushions. "Poor Mitch. He didn't deserve to die like that. To die for me."

"Nobody deserves to die like that," Ray snapped, lurching into motion again, his usually graceful movements awkward, jittery, tense.

Fraser frowned. Ray was flashing back to Marina dying for him earlier today- again. It was draining even his partner's near limitless energy. Just watching him was exhausting- Ray was bleeding energy like a spitting, popping short circuit.

"Why'd you bring the sword in the first place?" Welsh asked abruptly.

Saladin shrugged. "The saber is priceless. The single most valuable thing I own. I was hoping I could ransom Mitch with it. If I had been dealing with anyone but raving fanatics, I probably would have succeeded."

Welsh nodded. Hell, the guy was right, and his story filled in all the weird quirks about this case, matched what Pierson reported about Dalton's presence in Chicago and dovetailed almost perfectly with what little information they pried from the mercs so far.

"Awright," Welsh growled, thinking it through. "We got the hit team. We got an ID on the boss and every cop in Chicago is lookin' for Horton by now. We found the rightful owner of the saber and we figured out who our mystery victim is, and have the next two targets in protective custody." Welsh shot Fraser and Ray a look of grudging approval. "Not bad, you two." He turned back to Saladin. "You're under police protection as of this minute, Mr...?"

"Ayubin. Yosef Ayubin. You can just call me Yosef, if it's easier."

Welsh fixed him with a speculative stare. "I thought Vecchio called you Sally?"

Saladin smiled mirthlessly. "'Salah' is a name my friends use. I imagine Detective Vecchio was using it to attempt to break through my urge to kill. That and an excellent right cross."

Ray jerked his chin in a brief nod and shrugged noncommittally when Welsh glanced at him for confirmation. "Hey, it worked."

Saladin flowed to his feet smoothly, displaying that uncanny controlled movement he, Methos and Marina all shared. Ray was beginning to recognize it as the way a sword master moved.

"Thank you, Lieutenant...?"

"Welsh, Harding Welsh." Welsh stuck out a hand and Saladin took it. "I'm gonna have Detectives Huey and Dewey take a statement from you and move you to one of our safe houses for the night." He spun back around and glared at Fraser and Ray. "Who's watching Doctor MacLeod?"

"Diefenbaker is with her," Fraser responded immediately. "And thanks to her 'present' earlier today she is very well armed and the security system on her building is exemplary. She should be quite safe as long as she does not venture out, and Diefenbaker will see to that. In addition, we will be checking on her when we return."

Welsh nodded. "That's about all we can do for now."

"I want a crack at th' two in charge," Ray said instantly, leaning forward.

"You've got it," Welsh said, waving him in the direction of the interrogation rooms. "Send Huey and Dewey in here on your way out."

Ray bolted for the bullpen but spun around in the doorway. "Ya gonna be okay, Salah?" If this guy was Mina's knight now -Jesus, that was fucked up, a knight in the 90's- then Ray was gonna make damn sure his back was covered, but good.

Saladin lifted an eyebrow at use of his real name but nodded gravely. "Yeah, I'm all right, Ray. Thanks."

"Ya need anythin', have th' Duck Boys," Ray jerked his head at Huey and Dewey, "call me."

Saladin nodded, coolly collected, all traces of the bereaved lover or the vengeance-driven warrior hidden away once more.

Ray managed a tight, strained grin before bolting out the door. Fraser nodded politely to Saladin and followed his partner.

Ray blew past Huey and Dewey, but jerked a thumb over his shoulder on the way past. "Lieutenant wants ya," he said shortly.

Dewey made a face and headed for Welsh's office right away but Huey hung back for a second.

"Hey, Ray," Huey said quietly.

Ray stopped and glanced back over his shoulder, impatience vibrating through his body. "Yeah?"

Huey stepped closer. "Doc MacLeod- she okay?"

Ray jammed his fists deeper into his pockets -angry at the question- but Huey was a good guy, a good cop, and he was genuinely worried. Frannie and Stella really fucked over Marina and the whole 27th precinct wanted payback- a chance to make up for it. Ray understood that.

"Yeah, she's awright," Ray muttered. "Pretty stressed out but she's alive."

Huey clapped him on the shoulder with rough but sincere sympathy. "That's what's important, Ray," he replied. "You can work the other shit out later- once this is over. Long as all of you make it through alive."

Something bitter and angry and wound too tight inside Ray eased when Huey said that. "Yeah, that's... what's important," he repeated. Really, it was. Ray met Huey's gaze squarely for a second and nodded as a portion of the wire-tight tension drained out of his stance. "Thanks, Jack."

Jack Huey grinned lopsidedly and punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Don't get used to it."

Ray waited until Fraser caught up with him and walking shoulder-to-shoulder with his partner calmed him further. When they reached the hallway, Ray jerked his head at the men's room and Fraser followed him in without breaking stride.

After a quick check to see it was empty, Ray spun around and stared Fraser right in the eye. "I gotta ask ya somethin', Ben, and I want ya ta answer me yes or no. No Inuit stories, no long-winded explanations, no off on tangents. Yes or no. Ken ya do that?"

Fraser shifted to parade rest and met Ray's intense stare calmly. "I can try, Ray." Was it because of his broken marriage with Stella that Ray needed words so intensely, Fraser wondered. Or was it because his partner was so grounded in the physical world he needed to hear words spoken aloud -to reverberate in the air, to have weight, to have force- to truly believe in the reality of intangible emotion?

"Okay." Ray braced his hands on the sink and pulled in a deep breath for courage. "This thing, Frase, this thing with me, an' you, an' Mina, an' Dief. Us. Our pack. You want this? For keeps? Not just fer now, or until th' Mothership sends ya back, but fer keeps? All a' us? All th' way?" He dragged his head up and watched Fraser's expression. Everything, everything depended on this answer.

"Yes, Ray." No hesitation, no reservation. He would not fail to rise to level of courage his partner set. Anything less would be cowardice. Fraser's determination was set so strongly on his face, in his body, he might have been the living embodiment of stalwart resolution. "I love her. I love you. For keeps, as you say."

Ray's head dropped again, the joy, the relief sweeping through him was so strong it made him dizzy. "Okay... okay. Good. Greatness."

Fraser reached out and gripped Ray's shoulder, feeling Ray's manic tension steady out with their contact. "We won't lose her, Ray. Not now."

Ray exhaled and shook out his neck, arms and shoulders, let the jittery stress flow into focused energy, the hyper-alert zone he used for psyching out a perp. "Awright, buddy," he muttered, brushing his cheek against Fraser's hand, still gripping his shoulder. "Let's do this."

Fraser squeezed again in silent agreement and they left, shoulder to shoulder as always.

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End Geometry: Chapter 18, Revelations by Diefs Girl 

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